


How to Get Rid of Hiccups

by littleconnections



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Friends to Lovers, M/M, also idiots to lovers, this is a story about getting fingered by your best friend and falling in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 03:34:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21439546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleconnections/pseuds/littleconnections
Summary: https://www.healthline.com/health/how-to-get-rid-of-hiccups#tre...22. Have an orgasm. There’s an old case study involving a man whose hiccups lasted for four days. They immediately went away after he had an orgasm.23. Perform a rectal massage. Another case study reports that a man with ongoing hiccups found immediate relief after a rectal massage. Using a rubber glove and plenty of lubricant, insert a finger into the rectum and massage.OrTravis has the hiccups.
Relationships: Travis Konecny/Nolan Patrick
Comments: 38
Kudos: 519





	How to Get Rid of Hiccups

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IdaCippo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdaCippo/gifts).

> A very happy birthday to you, Suzanne!

Travis is staring at the ceiling. He’s lying in his hotel bed, staring at the ceiling, concentrating very hard and trying not to—

“Hic—!”

That. It’s insane, he’s had these hiccups for the last six hours. Since dinner and now it’s two am and he can’t sleep and it won’t fucking stop and—

“Hic—!”

“I’m gonna kill you,” Patty rumbles from over on his bed. “I’m actually gonna kill you.”

Normally this would be funny to Travis. Patty’s pissed, red-cheeked face is peering out over the top of his blanket, bedraggled strands of hair falling into it. He’s all wrapped up in it like a cocoon. A mean, angry slug.

But they only checked into the hotel at one a.m. and there’s team breakfast in the morning and Travis just wants to sleep.

“Hic—!”

Patty makes a strangled noise and struggles out of his blanket cocoon. Travis watches with interest as he paws his way out, then paws around on the nightstand for his phone. His hair is absolutely everywhere as he bends over the screen, typing furiously.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting Provy to give me his room number so I can sleep there.”

“Oh.” That probably makes sense. Patty needs to sleep, and he can’t do that here, not when Travis is going to be up all night, with these goddamn—

“Hic—!”

Nolan doesn’t even look up, just scowls harder at his phone. It doesn’t seem to be doing anything, though, even as Patty keeps poking the screen.

“You could knock on some doors?” Travis ventures.

Patty snorts. “Sure and Jake will eat more interrupting his beauty sleep. I’d rather deal with you, thanks.”

They sit in silence. Travis has crawled up against the headboard, blanket around his shoulders like a cape. The only light is the glow of Patty’s phone screen, too bright and still dim in the darkness of the room. It feels stupid, and heavy, and weird, to be awake now when they should be sleeping, when they _need_ to be sleeping.

“Hic—!”

The fury in every line of Patty’s face actually makes Travis giggle.

“Al-fucking-right,” he mutters and starts poking his phone again.

“Okay,” he says after a moment. “Here’s a list. How to get rid of hiccups. We’re fucking doing this. The first one is practice measured breathing so fucking sit up straight and breathe.”

Travis…does what he’s told. He could fight Nolan on this but he’d actually kind of like to stop having the hiccups and if something on this stupid list can get it done then he’s willing to try some shit out.

There’s a lot of breathing shit at first. Hold your breath. Bend other and breathe. Pinch your knows while you breathe out. None of it fucking helps.

“Hic—!”

“Stick out your tongue and pull on it,” Nolan says.

“What the _fuck_?”

“Just fucking do it,” Nolan orders. He’s unwrapped himself all the way from his blanket now and turned on one of the lights. It makes everything glow in that soft orange-y light, shadows flickering on the side of Nolan’s face.

There’s a bunch of weird shit now. Squeeze on your palm. Massage your carotid artery and they had to look up where that was first. Travis does manage to spill water all over himself when he starts coughing after trying to drink water while pinching his nose. He manages to spill even more on it when trying to drink from the opposite side of the glass. Like what the fuck is that about.

Nolan watches him as he strips out of his shirt, tossing it on his bed in disgust.

“What’s – hic—next?”

The next bit is about eating and drinking. He gargles some water but they don’t have peanut butter or a lemon, or vinegar, so those options are out of the question.

Nolan bends over his phone to read the next things on the list. Travis sits quietly on the bed, absently turning his shirt over and over in his hands. He watches Patty, brows screwed up in concentration as he reads and watches as his face starts flushing a deep red.

“What?” Travis says. “What does it say?”

“Uh,” Nolan looks up. He’s red and patchy, eyes wide. “Have an orgasm and get a— a rectal massage?”

“A what?”

“Like, in your…ass.”

Travis squawks. “It does not say that!”

Nolan mutely thrusts his phone at him. Even his fingers look like they’re blushing. Travis takes the phone and reads it and yup, there it is. Point 22. and 23. on the list. Have an orgasm and “using a rubber glove and plenty of lubricant, insert a finger into the rectum and massage”.

“Hic—!”

He looks up at Patty, considering. Nolan is staring back at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly open, like an idiot.

“Huh.”

“I mean,” Nolan mumbles and looks away. “You could combine it?”

“What?” Travis frowns. “Like jerk off and finger myself?”

If anything Nolan gets even redder. He nods, eyes still focused on the wall.

“Nah,” Travis says. “That doesn’t work for me, the angle's all wrong.”

“What?” Nolan’s eyes flick to Travis’s face and then away again. “You’ve tried that?”

“Come on Patty,” Travis scoffs. “You’ve never tried to find your g-spot? Fucking lame, bro.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Patty says and buries his face in his hands. They’re big hands, thick-knuckled and broad-fingered.

“Hic—!”

“Besides,” Travis hears himself saying. “I don’t even have any lube.”

Nolan looks up. Starts to lower his hands, then raises one and runs it through his hair.

“I mean,” he mumbles, “I do.”

He’s making eye contact but in a way that makes Travis think he’s rather not.

“Oh yeah?” Travis laughs. “You offering to finger me too?”

The eye contact doesn’t break off. Nolan’s face is still redder than Travis has ever seen it, but he raises one eyebrow in an approximation of chill.

“Will that make you go to sleep?”

Suddenly Travis has no chill. He’s nowhere in the vicinity of chill. His body goes hot, skin prickling. There’s still a lot of eye contact happening, the air between them suddenly heavy, staticky.

“Hic—!”

Nolan’s whole face goes pinched. Travis laughs again but it's a little shaky this time.

“Yeah alright man, let’s fucking do it.”

Which is how he ends up naked on his back on a hotel bed in Raleigh at three in the morning, pillow propped under his hips and hand on his dick. Nolan comes up to the bed, dropping the lube on the covers next to Travis. It’s a decent sized bottle and Travis would maybe think about chirping him for it except Nolan is staring at Travis with huge eyes, at his dick and his abs and his face and back to his dick, as if this is something he’s never seen before.

Well okay, maybe he hasn’t in these circumstances but also he offered to put his fingers in Travis’s ass so—

“Hic—!”

Nolan’s face settles into determination and Travis wishes that didn’t make his dick harder.

There’s a moment where it’s awkward, Nolan spreading the lube on his fingers and Travis kind of just laying there with his hand on his dick. He jerks it once, twice, then feels weird about it and just watches Nolan’s face instead.

His legs are already sort of open. Nolan puts one hand on his knee, gently pushing them wider. He rubs the skin a little, absently, soothingly. Travis lets himself enjoy that.

The finger Nolan puts on his hole is cold but before Travis can complain about it, he’s pushing inwards, sliding into him to the first knuckle and Travis’s breath catches in his throat.

It’s not a big intrusion, but it still feels strange. _Good_, but strange, the pressure of it, the way it’s spreading his rim, filling his inside. He wiggles, wants more, flexing around Nolan’s finger. Nolan’s gaze keeps flicking from his hand to Travis face, to somewhere off in the distance, again and again.

“Come on dude,” Travis says. “Get on with it.”

Nolan makes a little annoyed sound but he does keep going, pushing his finger farther in, slight back-and-forth motions as his moves farther into Travis’s ass.

“Hic—!”

Nolan raises an eyebrow at him, even as he shifts his finger inside Travis. Travis refuses to be embarrassed about this. He can’t really concentrate on anything except the feeling of Nolan inside him, his big fucking hand, the way his knuckle catches his rim when he shifts in and out of Travis. It’s a lot but it’s good, almost good enough, almost what Travis wants but not, not quite.

“Could you be any slower, dude?” Travis isn’t breathless.

“I’m doing you a fucking favor, stop fucking compl—"

Whatever Nolan does, that does it. He catches something inside Travis and his eyes shut, mouth falling open as he moans, arching his back.

“Jesus fuck,” Nolan says, somewhere far away. When Travis opens his eyes the flush is back on Nolan’s face, mouth agape as he stares at Travis.

“That,” Travis pants. “Keep doing that.”

He does. Nolan applies himself to his mission, finger dragging over Travis’s prostate again and again. It feels so good, better, maybe than anything ever has before. The pressure builds inside Travis as he moves his hand on his dick, the drag of it against his rim, opening him, and when Nolan rubs his thumb over it while pushing deep inside Travis that’s it—Travis is coming, spilling over his own fingers, eyes squeezed shut, panting.

“Fuck,” Nolan says. “I—bathroom.”

He eases his finger out of Travis’s ass, which feels weird and takes off. Travis considers following him for a moment, but every bone in his body feels like it’s been melted so he just grabs some Kleenex off the nightstand and then rolls himself up in his blanket, already drifting off. It takes Patty a while to leave the bathroom and when he does, he just flicks off the light and crawls into his bed, returning to his blanket cocoon. Travis is asleep before he hears if he says goodnight.

\--

Of course they oversleep they next morning. They didn’t fall asleep until the middle of the fucking night and Travis honestly doesn’t remember if he didn't set an alarm or he just turned it off in a sleep haze but either way he’s jolted out of his sleep by someone (Jake, maybe?) banging on their down and yelling about breakfast.

“Fuck,” Travis says. He’s still wiped but he also desperately needs to shower so he rolls out of bed and storms toward the bathroom. On the other bed Nolan is grumbling and unwrapping himself, but Travis doesn’t have time for that right now.

When he stumbles back out of the shower to brush his teeth he notices the bottle of lube sitting on the counter. Fucking weird. He grabs it drops it on Patty’s empty bed when he comes out, rushing through getting dressed.

He sees Nolan again at breakfast, almost buried in his oatmeal, and he plops down next to him with a grunted greeting. He gets the same grunt back and then he’s busy shoveling food into his mouth. You don’t get a lot of time for breakfast when you oversleep.

The first time he has time to think is when they’re on their way to the arena. Patty is sitting beside him, headphones plugged in, scrolling through his phone. He’s not looking at Travis, but their shoulders are pressed into each other. Travis watches him absently and then—he remembers.

Or no, that’s wrong. It’s not like he forgot. You don’t just forget your best friend fingering you so good you reach a new level of orgasm, but the morning had been busy and he hadn’t really had time to think about it. Now he has nothing but time, Nolan’s hands right in front of him, the wide knuckles and long fingers and it’s like he doesn’t remember anything else.

Travis shifts in his seat. His hiccups are gone, at least.

Nolan closes his eyes and leans against the window, seemingly falling asleep in an instant.

Travis keeps looking at his hands. He thinks about how good it had felt to have that single finger inside him, how it might feel to have more than that. Two fingers, three, holding him open, fucking into him, stretching him. It’s a deeply horny thought and he has to wrench his gaze away, shift in his seat and consciously think about something else so that he doesn’t arrive at the PNC Arena with a hard-on.

It’s easy not to think about it during practice because everything is easy to push away when you have hockey to focus on. Coach goes easy on them because while not everyone fell asleep at three in the morning last night, they did get into the hotel late.

It’s not until they’re leaving, everyone scattering for lunch that it’s brought up for Travis again. Nolan claps him on the shoulder.

“What do you wanna get for lunch?” he mumbles.

His hand is so fucking big. Travis feels like he’s having an out of body experience. He shrugs.

Nolan frowns at him out from under the brim of his tuque, probably because Travis usually has an opinion on their lunch.

“Fine,” he says. “We’re getting barbecue.”

He’s doing it to be a dick because he knows Travis has been trying to be better about the eating healthy stuff but Travis is still too focused on the pressure points of his palm and fingers, the weight and press of them, to really argue.

“So your hiccups are gone,” Nolan says when they’re both sitting there with a plate of ribs in front of them. Travis’s mouth is full, so he can’t respond except by giving Nolan the finger. Nolan’s face stays completely neutral as he eats his ribs, sauce smeared around the edges of his mouth.

“Guess I can count on you if they ever come back,” Travis says after he finally swallows his food. Nolan snorts. For a moment they just look at each other, then Nolan grabs a napkin and starts wiping sauce off his face, which is a useless thing to do if you’re not done eating yet. Travis tells him so. Nolan kicks him under the table in return and they’re back to squabbling.

\--

The bad thing is the hiccups do come back. Travis is not as mad about it as he’s making out to be. He is mad about—

“What the—hic—fuck dude! You can’t just—hic—leave me here like this!”

The hiccups are worse this time. Or, they’re closer together though maybe not as strong? Whatever, what’s more important is that Nolan is standing in front of the door with his arms crossed, worn grey sleeping shirt stretched over his chest, ready to go to Provy’s room and leave Travis to his suffering.

“This is the second time you’ve gotten the hiccups on this road trip,” he says.

“Fine,” Travis rolls off his bed, cracks his neck. “I’m stealing your lube though.”

Nolan stares at him. “What?”

“Your lube,” Travis makes an impatient gesture towards Nolan’s bag. “Come on dude, I need it.”

“You’re—” Nolan swallows. “You’re gonna do that to yourself?”

He’s getting pink again, which is so fucking typical it makes Travis grin a little.

“It worked last time, right?”

“Right,” Nolan frowns, the shakes himself. He crosses the room, digs into his bag, then smacks the bottle into Travis’s chest.

“Let me know when you’re done so I can sleep in my own fucking bed,” he says. It’s rough, low. Travis definitely isn’t going to think about it when he jerks off in a minute.

“Sure, sure,” Travis tosses him a salute.

The thing is though, Travis wasn’t lying. It’s not something that really works when he does it to himself. It feels good, that’s not the problem. He likes the silky, hot feeling of himself inside, he likes the stretch and drag of his finger. But he can’t get the angle right, can’t get deep enough like Patty did and there’s a certain amount of coordination involved in jerking it and fingering yourself at the same time that just doesn’t work for him. It doesn’t help that he still has the hiccups.

His phone dings.

Travis sighs and pulls his finger out, wiping it on the sheet before snatching his phone from the nightstand and squinting at it.

Nolan:

_Can I come back yet?_

Travis frowns at it.

Travis:

_No_

_I told you I can’t do as well for myself dude_

He tosses the phone back and grabs the lube again. Two fingers this time.

He’s got his eyes closed, moaning as he jerks himself so he doesn’t hear the door open. He does hear it slam shut and when he opens his eyes Nolan is standing in the room, mouth open as he looks at him. They make eye contact. It’s incredibly weird.

“What the fuck dude?” Travis still has his fingers in his ass. “I—hic—told you not to come back.”

“Uh,” Nolan is staring. Mouth open, cheeks flushed, looking slightly glassy as his eyes flick from Travis’s fingers to his dick to his chest to his face. “You’re taking too long. Thought I’d help.”

Travis considers for just a moment, the slips his fingers free and tosses the lube at Patty.

Nolan has this intense expression as he slicks up his fingers. Travis keeps looking at it and then looking away, eyes crawling over the hotel room furniture, body lit up in anticipation.

This time Nolan doesn’t waste any time. Just his hand on Travis knee, a slow drag against his hole and then he’s in Travis and it’s so good. Travis back arches and he’s panting, hand tight on his dick as he flexes around Patty’s finger.

“Yeah,” Nolan says, low and rough, as he starts to move.

Travis is already turned on from his own work and he has to squeeze his eyes closed so he doesn’t come on the spot. Nolan’s hit his prostate again and he’s a writhing mess, trying to get him to do that again and again. Nolan’s other hand is digging into his knee, clutching, heavy pressure. When Travis opens his eyes he looks at that, at the long fingers, the short, square nails.

“Come on,” he pants, “give me another one.”

Nolan makes a noise, low in his throat, and then there’s a shifting and a pressure and Travis tries to relax as Nolan pushes into him.

Nolan’s fingers are bigger than his, stretching him just slightly more. It burns a little, the pressure, wide and thick inside of him. The knuckles drag against his rim, holding his open and inside him Nolan curls his fingers, finds that exact sweet spot.

Travis can’t take it anymore. He starts moving his hand again, tight, quick, wet and when he comes it hits him like a train, jizz spilling all over his own chest.

“Jesus,” Nolan is panting like he’s the one that just came. Travis makes a face at him, the pressure of his fingers suddenly too much, but Nolan is already pulling out, turning away.

“I’m going to take a shower.”

That’s fine with Travis. He doesn’t think he can move yet, all his limbs turned to jelly. He just stares at the hotel ceiling, the ugly off-white and considers the pleasure still sparking in him and the fact that his hiccups are gone again.

When Nolan comes out of the shower, Travis gets off the bed and takes his own shower because the dried come on his chest is pretty gross. He cleans it off, brushes his teeth and when he comes back out Nolan has already wrapped himself into his blanket cocoon. He grunts back at Travis’s good night and then they turn the lights off and Travis falls into a dreamless sleep.

\--

After New York they finally go back to Philly. Travis gets to sleep in his own bed, quiet and peaceful. He gets the hiccups once, considers jerking off about it but then they go away on their own after about an hour.

They have to film a thing with Flyer’s PR where they bring a camera crew into his apartment and see how much of a disaster he and Patty are, even if they insist that’s not what it’s about. He makes sure everything is cleaned up nice.

Nolan comes by the way he always does, tossing Travis his tie to tie for him. He’s looking something up on his phone. There are a lot of people around, chatting, trying to work the angles. Travis ties the tie.

“If your hiccups last more than two days, they’re considered chronic,” Patty mumbles at him as he takes his tie back.

Travis is embarrassingly, impossibly fond of him. He can’t keep it off his face at all.

They promptly get lost trying to get out of the parking garage. In the backseat the cameraperson is laughing at them.

\--

Travis gets the hiccups during team dinner in Vancouver.

“No,” Patty says. “This is not fucking happening again.”

“Hic—!”

“What’s the problem?” Carter asks, eyes wide and innocent. The look Nolan throws him is so dark a normal person would probably be afraid but Carter just looks back, placid.

“Travis gets these fucking hiccups,” Patty says. “And then I can’t fucking sleep.”

“Oh,” he turns to look at Travis. “Have you tried drinking some water?”

“Thanks—hic—Hartsy,” Travis says. “We’ve—hic—figured out a way to make it stop.”

The wink he throws at Nolan might be a bit much.

\--

Travis can’t decide if it’s a good or bad thing that he likes this so much.

Probably, a good thing, all things considered. Getting fingered by your best friend and not even liking it sounds like a miserable situation. On the other hand, Travis is getting obsessed. He’s starting to want this all the time, not just the fingers in his ass but Nolan, his open-mouthed, red faced, the way his hair falls into his face as he concentrates on making Travis fall apart.

Travis writhes, trying to get more. He’s just clutching at the sheets right now, dick leaking onto his abs, panting, head tipped back.

“Holy shit,” Nolan whispers.

Travis opens his eyes to look at him. Nolan’s eyes are dark, blinking rapidly, the clutch of his hand tight against Travis’s leg. His lips are, slicked wet with spit, like he’s been biting them. Travis eyes flick down, catching on the way his sweatpants are tenting.

“Are you—fuck—” he pants. “Are you hard?”

“Yeah,” Nolan says. “Fuck you.”

Fuck that’s hot.

“You should put that in me,” Travis says.

It’s probably a stupid thing to say but Travis a.) is wildly turned on and b.) never claimed to be smart in the first place. For a moment they’re frozen in place, Travis staring at Nolan, Nolan staring back. The dim, orange light of the hotel room seems to catch and hold them, freezing the moment in time.

“You want me to?”

“Yeah, dude.”

“Fuck,” Nolan swallows, then seems to make a decision. He takes his hands back, which Travis makes a noise of protest at, the shoves his sweatpants down, freeing his dick. Travis looks at it, red, thick, leaking as Nolan slicks it up, then crawls closer so that he can line himself up with Travis’s hole. Travis sees him swallow, sees him scan Travis’s face.

“Come on dude,” he says. “Do it.”

Nolan is bigger than his fingers. It’s a lot, and it feels different, the thick, unerring stretch, the way Nolan keeps shifting into him, deeper and deeper. Travis clutches the sheets again, pants. Above him Nolan is cursing steadily.

Finally, Nolan bottoms out. Travis blinks. Reaches out to touch him, gripping his shoulder through his shirt. It’s weird that Nolan is still basically dressed and Travis shifts, tries to find some leverage and Nolan gets the hint, starts moving.

It feels good. Different than fingers. Better in some ways maybe, the way Nolan is close and big above him, the way Travis can move against him, with him. The drag in and out of him is—it’s so much, Travis wants—he feels things building inside him, gets a hand around his dick again, feels Nolan jerk and speed up.

He looks at Nolan when he comes, feels himself clenching around Nolan’s dick. He hears him curse, feels him jerk forward, once, twice more and then come, spilling into Travis’s ass. That feels weird, and wet, and he shudders, clenches again.

For a moment they just look at each other, Nolan still inside Travis, then Nolan surges forward, mashes their mouths together in a kiss.

It surprises Travis and maybe he doesn’t react as quickly as he could. He just feels the force of Nolan’s mouth on his, the hard, unexpected pressure and then Nolan is moving back, pulling out of him and rolling to the side. He lays there, staring at the ceiling and panting a little.

“Sorry.”

Travis doesn’t really understand what’s happening but he hears Nolan’s voice, the soft, exhausted tenor of it and he knows that’s not what Nolan is supposed to sound like.

“Hey,” he rolls to the side to face him. “Hey—no—come here.”

Nolan turns to him and then it’s easy to slot their mouths together, soft, unhurried. Nolan is stiff for a moment, then relaxes into it. Their mouths move against each other, wet, lips, tongue and Travis’s heart is suddenly swelling, filling up every part of his chest, beat echoing at his temple. He keeps kissing Nolan. He wants to keep kissing Nolan.

Travis breaks the kiss and turns to lay on his back. He can feel Nolan looking at him, turns and grins a little.

“Gotta shower, I’m a mess.”

Nolan’s face is unreadable, but he nods, slowly and when Travis comes out of the shower he’s moved back to his own bed, wrapped up in the blanket cocoon. He must already be asleep, because he doesn’t grunt anything in return to Travis’s good night.

\--

Things go on. Hockey, practice, home, road trip, blablabla. The hockey is decent but there’s something off. Travis can’t quite put his finger on it, but it’s there something that isn’t quite the way it usually is. He feels off-balance and he doesn’t like it.

He doesn't figure it out until it’s an off day and Travis is laying on his couch, playing CoD and he’s by himself—he’s by himself. That’s the thing. Doesn’t even have Nolan in his ear over his headset. It’s weird.

He tosses the controller onto the couch table and flops back. He stares at the ceiling for ten, fifteen minutes, contemplating. Makes a decision, pops off the couch and rushes upstairs to Nolan’s place. He’s not even wearing shoes he realizes when he’s banging on Nolan’s door. 

Nolan has a controller in his hand when he finally opens the door, which pisses Travis off. 

“What the fuck, dude?”

“Hi Travis,” Nolan says. “How are you doing, Travis?” 

He doesn’t get out of the way, doesn’t let Travis into his apartment. Travis has to physically shove his way past him. CoD is on the big screen in the living room and Travis whirls around to face Nolan, gesturing at it. 

“Without me?”

Nolan looks tired suddenly. It’s around the eyes somehow, a tension. He’s wearing a t-shirt and basketball shorts because he always keeps the heat in his house up way too high. It’s a worn-out old shirt, the collar loose around Nolan’s neck. Travis doesn’t understand why he’s noticing that right now. 

“Maybe I just want to be by myself right now.”

“Bullshit.” Travis frowns at him. Maybe...maybe that was a thing for other people, towards other people what that wasn’t a thing for them. They didn’t do not hanging out. 

Nolan crosses his arms in front of his chest. It makes his biceps look huge, which Travis also doesn’t need to be noticing right now. He can’t help himself though, his whole body seems turned toward Nolan, fucking in tune or some shit. 

“I—“ Nolan turns his eyes toward the ceiling. “Look, I just can’t hang with you right now.”

“Why?”

Nolan frowns. “I’m not telling you. It’s none of your business.”

“Uh,” Travis steps towards him so that they’re standing almost toe to toe. He thinks he can feel the heat of him, has to look up. “If it has to do with me than I think it’s my business, actually.”

Nolan is still frowning off into the middle distance, all eyebrows. 

“Come on,” Travis chest feels tight. He can’t—he can’t have this, Nolan not hanging out with him, not even telling him what’s wrong. His hand twitches. He wants to reach out, touch Patty. “You can’t— you can’t just do that. Leave me hanging like that. At least tell me why.”

Nolan looks down at him. His mouth is turned down slightly. Travis doesn’t know what’s happening. Nolan uncrosses his arms, reaches out. His hand lands it’s Travis hair, fingers threading through it, then he sighs and tilts his face up and leans down to kiss Travis. 

Travis kisses back, instantly. He still doesn’t get it, really but whatever it is Nolan kissing him his something he can get behind. He leans into, up pushing into Patty. Mouth hungry, open, Patty’s tongue in his mouth and when Nolan finally pulls back he feels almost dazed. Nolan lets go of his hair, steps back a little. 

“Yeah,” he says. “That.”

Travis licks his lip. “So?”

“Trav,” he sighs. “I want to do that all the time. I want to fuck you all the time.”

For a moment Travis wants to go ‘so?’ again. It doesn’t seem like a big deal to him. Nolan wants to kiss him. He looks at Nolan’s face, how unhappy he looks, how he’s holding himself apart and—okay, maybe Nolan is talking about something else. Something more. Feelings. 

It’s— Travis hasn’t thought about feelings. He just knows this: Nolan is his best friend and he being with him feels good. Everything with him feels good, from hanging out to having his dick in his ass. There’s a complicated mess in his chest, layers that Travis doesn’t feel like he can untangle right now, where friendship flows into fucking flows into, maybe, possibly, other feelings. All he knows is that if Patty wants to fuck him, he can have that and if he wants more, well he can probably have that too. 

He steps forward, closes the distance between them. Nolan’s eyes flick to his, then away, then back again. 

“You can,” Travis says. “I want to, too. I want—god, Patty, I don’t even know what I want. More than I can explain.”

There’s a long moment between them where it’s just Nolan looking at Travis’s face, steady, trying to read in his expression. Travis doesn’t know what he’s looking for exactly, but he hopes that he finds it. He can’t—he can’t exist with everything off like it was, Nolan there, just outside of his reach. 

When Nolan moves he makes a noise in his throat, clenched, broken and then he’s touching Travis again, fingers in his hair, mouth hard and surging and it’s everything Travis wants, everything he’s been missing. He melts into it. 

They don’t stay standing in the living room. It’s like a dam has been broken. They kiss and they kiss, moving steadily towards Nolan’s bedroom. Travis is stripped of his shirt somewhere in the hallway and he doesn’t care at all because Nolan runs his hands over his chest all appreciatively, dragging a finger across Travis’s nipple, then doing it again when Travis’s breath catches in his throat. 

They can’t get out of the rest of their clothes fast enough. 

On the bed Nolan gets his mouth on Travis’s chest, sucking, biting into him. Travis digs his fingers into Nolan’s hair, gasping, hips twitching into thin air. 

Nolan raises his head, looks up at him. 

“What do you want?” Nolan says, low. “Tell me.”

“Your dick,” Travis hisses. “Your—god, you, fucker. I want you.”

Nolan kisses him again, then rolls to the side and scoots backwards so that he’s leaning against his headboard. Travis squints up at him, the wide expanse of his chest, the way his flush is creeping down it, the long, lean angles of his legs, the stupid thigh tattoos. His dick, hard and thick and pink, arching against his stomach. 

Nolan wraps a hand around it. “Wanna ride me?”

Travis kind of does but he also kind of wants to be a shit about it, so he pretends to just think about it. Touches his own dick, fingers loose. Nolan watches him, eyes dark and hungry and it’s—

“Yeah okay.” He scrambles until he’s across Nolan’s lap, legs splayed wide around his waist. He’s taller than Nolan like his, up on his knees on the bed and he takes a moment to enjoy it, kiss him like that. Nolan puts his hands on him again, hand curving around his hip, his ass until it finds his hole, finger pushing against it slightly and Travis is so fucking eager, shifting, twitching, god he wants—

They have to twist to get the lube out of Nolan’s night stand but then Nolan’s fingers are sliding into his ass and Travis forgets to think about anything except that. All he can feel is the stretch and the pressure and the way Nolan slides in and out of him, steady, inescapable. He pushes in, up, curls his fingers and that’s it, that’s the spot. 

Travis head is tipped back, panting open mouthed and when he opens his eyes again Nolan is watching him. 

“Do you know what you looked like?” He drags his fingers out again, slow, slow. “Fucking yourself on my fingers like that?”

Travis doesn’t say anything, just writhes, trying to get more. 

“Yeah, like that. Like you couldn’t fucking get enough.”

Nolan slides his fingers out of Travis, holds him steady with one hand while he guides his dick with the other hand. It slides across Travis’s ass, thick and heavy, and then they get it right and Nolan is in him, opening him and Travis lowers himself down. He goes slow, savours the stretch and the drag, looking at Nolan looking at him. 

Nolan kisses him again. Gets his hands on him, his thighs, his ass. Breaks the kiss to mouth at Travis’s neck, enough to make Travis shiver. 

“Next time,” Nolan says and drags his hands up over Travis’s back, “I’m gonna fuck you on your knees. Get this all spread out, watch you twitch on my dick.”

That’s hot but it’s also— Travis pauses, looks down at Nolan, eyebrows raised.

“You think about this a lot?” He pants.

Nolan smirks, red-cheeked, eyes lidded. His nails dig into Travis’s back as he slides his hands back down to his hips. 

“Yeah,” he says. “You’re fucking hot, Teeks.”

He fucks up into him, hard. Travis shudders, closes his eyes as Nolan keeps fucking him. He clutches at Nolan, his shoulders and arms. Nolan mouths at his chest, hot, wet, an occasional scrape of teeth. His hands feel huge on Travis’s hips, his ass, finger sneaking back to prod at the rim of Travis hole, feel the way he’s stretched around Nolan’s dick. 

Their skin slides against each other, slick with sweat. Nolan guides Travis, fucks up into him as Travis grinds down to meet him. Strands of his hair are clinging to Nolan’s face, sweaty and pink. Nolan is big, everywhere, in him, around him and he’s looking at Travis with such hunger that Travis wants to give him whatever he wants. 

Everything is building in Travis but it’s not enough, the way his dick is just rubbing against Nolan isn’t enough so he releases the clutch he has on Nolan’s shoulder, reaches down to touch himself. Nolan watches, fucks him harder and it feels inevitable almost, that when Travis gets a hand on himself it doesn’t take long at all until his coming, striping both himself and Nolan in come. Nolan swears as he does, kisses him again and fucks into his shuddering, over-sensitive body, hard enough that Travis doesn’t know if wants it, senses overwhelmed. Nolan comes before he makes a decision, still, shuddering, face pressed into Travis’s neck, teeth digging into the skin. It makes Travis twitch, pant. 

They collapse onto the bed together. Travis feels tacky and loose now that Nolan has pulled out. Nolan runs his hand over his skin, gentle and petting. Travis turns to look at him. 

Nolan’s face is still open, relaxed. There’s something like wonder on it, unbearably tender. Travis can’t look at it, swallows as his chest unfolds. There are so many emotions and he clings to Nolan, lets himself get lost in the feeling of just being touched. It’s good to want this. It’s good to be wanted like this. There’s no reason to let go. 

**Author's Note:**

> That's a real healthline article and one of the first things that comes up if you google how to get rid of hiccups. #themoreyouknow


End file.
